little black boy

little black boysit down.fold your hands into your lapand put your lap into ordernow cry me a little song.sing me a little note about me caring about what you care about,then dream me a little dream.and when your tears turn intooases and exposed riversstand upand pour me a little cupfill it with every broken promiseand the unfulfilled moments ofbelated birthdays and first daysof the school year when yourclothes were unkempt...thentell me a little secretabout how--you wish your fatherbothered enough to be a father or fathered another version of you,so that you could have a friendand thenwrite me a little poem.make me a little rhyme aboutthe places you lived and the schoolsyou've attendedthe teachers you've impressedand the classmatesyou've offended...by simplybeing alittle black boywho could read and speak welland vividly express himself,find clean shirts amongst the dirty onesand dress himselflong enoughto cover up his little painand then bring me a little moreof whatever it is that you havebundled up in your little hand,stashed away from piercing eyes,tucked inside of your little lapthat you peek at every momentyou are given a little slacka little chanceand little hopea little grade for your little workjust...put it in my hand...and trust me, little black boyi promise to give it back--in order.

About the poet:

Jimmy Moss is a third-year medical student at Florida State University College of Medicine. "I got interested in writing as a way of trying to communicate many of the ineffable aspects of my life. I enjoy writing about various issues (love, poverty, nature, social interactions, etc.) and am always challenging myself to push my creativity to new levels of expansion and understanding."

About the poem:

"This poem is about me, my upbringing, and how awkward I used to feel for wanting (desiring) something more than the options my environment was daily presenting to me. Growing up in poverty wasn't all that hard, because everyone around me was poor. The more difficult tasks were trying to overcome the negative connotations associated with 'being from the 'hood,' acquiring academic enhancement from sub-par school systems, and looking past all of the negativity I received from others for attempting to establish a better existence for myself. I cared about progress, and was ridiculed for it.

"In the poem I mention 'finding clean shirts amongst the dirty ones,' which symbolizes the innocence of how I viewed things--because to me that was more of a skill than getting good grades. I had to learn (mostly on my own) that simply surviving wasn't the only thing life was about. I had to visualize myself in a better situation--one where I was exceeding expectations and expanding on numerous levels. However, since I had no blueprint to follow, I had to trust that life was going to take care of my little portion of hope. I had to have faith that if I at least attempted to do the right things, something or someone (e.g., the narrator of the poem) would meet me halfway, thereby confirming that my dreams, thoughts, hard work, embarrassments, trying times, sacrifices and tears were not in vain.

"So often, I think that individuals who rise above statistical and societal stereotypes are not given enough social support, so they are forced to trust that life itself will not let them down. So far, doing just that has worked out well for me."